They sat on the sofa, looking cautiously at the cameras ready to take in every spoken word and subtle nuance of their story. He in his well-worn school uniform and her in her Sunday finest. She was so very proud of him, and did her best to encourage him to study well. It wasn’t easy – there are no books to teach you how to raise children as a grandmother, no foods you can eat to make you young again, no perfect words to explain why mom and dad aren’t ever coming home. Poverty, neglect, and HIV have left their scrawled mark here.

But hope keeps rising like the sun.

He has dreams far bigger than the small patch of earth he walks every day. A small school down the road is the reason why. Two meals a day, loving teachers, a social worker, medical care, and visits from mzungu who “come down from the sky” to help them give her faith that his future will be more than she can even imagine.

And so she keeps raising him up. And she keeps thanking God for the kindness of strangers and friends.

They sat on on the sofa, and they told the story. Her feet are planted. His feet want to fly.

About Ronne Rock

YOU ARE GOD'S HAND-CRAFTED DESIGN. AND I WANT TO CELEBRATE YOU.

We're in this together, and I am for you. I secure road signs with a hammer of hope, and clear the debris so they can be seen. I am your encourager. I walk and keep walking. Cheer and keep cheering. I invest, dive deep, and cherish most the stories being written in the lives of women who believe restoration is a reality on earth as it is in heaven. God holds the pen in those stories, “That one - I hold her. And that one - she is My delight. And that one - never snatched away.” I am a mouthpiece of celebration for women.Redemption is our song.
You can find even more encouragement in "For You, Love" the prayer journals that invite you to respond, and in Everbloom, a collection of stories from the Redbud Writers Guild. I'm currently writing One Woman Can Change the World, set to publish late spring 2020 (Revell).
I'm honored to be represented by Credo Communications.

Every story I hear from Africa makes me aware of how spoiled I am, and how often I whine about nothing. Last year my husband traveled to Kipkaren, Kenya to help build a trade-school (wood-working) for part of the ELI schools that help orphans. Every time I wanted to whine this week, I remembered the story and picture of a woman who spends every day bent into an L using a handmade broom to sweep the entire ELI compound. And never stops smiling.